


Egyptology Love Song

by Jennie



Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Archaeology, Egyptology, F/M, Graduate School, and she's a grad student, in that he's her site director, not anything more unethical than in canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-03-29 21:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19028647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennie/pseuds/Jennie
Summary: It's the field season after her first year of grad school, and budding paleopathologist Vic Hughes is both intimidated and looking forwards to the summer in Egypt at the Reyahh Oasis, under the direction of Dr. Lucas Ripley, renown Egyptologist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madnephelite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnephelite/gifts).



> Hey everyone! So I can't promise this will be updated on any regular schedule. Also, I am an archaeology grad student, but a medieval one and I...really don't know much about Egyptology (nor do I have the time to really sink my teeth into Egyptology to make this as accurate as I would like), so please excuse any errors. (If you happen to be an Egyptologist in any form and would like to beta/let me pick your brain, I would be _thrilled_.) 
> 
>  
> 
> This story is based on [this lovely piece of art](https://twitter.com/madnephelite/status/1133809977980796928) by [madnephelite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnephelite/pseuds/madnephelite) here on AO3.

Vic is not a nervous flier.  At least, that's what she tells herself.  It's just the fact she's going to Egypt for the first time to work on the renown Reyahh Oasis archaeological site.  She ‘spacked as many books as she could on Egyptology and Paleopathology into her bags and filled up her Kindle with more.  One is in her lap already,  _Ancient Egypt: An Introduction_.  She's a paleopathologist and not an Egyptologist by any means, but Dr. Herrera asked her on the dig last winter, and the preliminary paleopathological research has been interesting.  Five cases of cancer, at one site!  She's hoping to find indications of sensory disabilities there.  Vic just needs to read up -- a lot -- on Egyptology, something she meant to do during the spring semester but got so overwhelmed in her other classes she didn't have time to prepare properly. She shakes her leg on the floor in front of her seat, causing her tray table and the laptop on it to jiggle.  No sweat, right?  She can read on the plane and during down time.  It's not like anyone expects _her_ to be the expert, lowly second-year grad student that she is going to be.

 

Jack Gibson, a fifth year-PhD student and her supervisor on this trip after the death of Dr. Herrera, looks at her sharply.  They are seated together on the side of the plane, surrounded by other students and crew members.  "Nervous?" he teases, reaching out and holding down her tray table.

 

"No," she replies, giving him a look, "just antsy. It's been a long flight. You?"  After all, while he is ABD -- all but dissertation -- this is going to be his first time running a dig for the university and being responsible for all that comes with it.  Vic may be as far down the totem pole as it gets, but even she knows that Jack is in a tricky position.  Dr. Herrera's death not only shook up the Egyptology community but the entire archaeology program at the University of Washington, and the school was skeptical to send a fifth-year grad student -- albeit Dr. Herrera's top student -- to take over such an important dig.  And it didn’t help that Andy Herrera, Dr. Herrera’s daughter, was chomping at the bit to take over her father’s legacy, despite being a fourth-year grad student in Comparative Literature.

 

"No." He scowls. "Just peachy."  He returns to look out the window, which Vic doesn't see the point of.  It's just endless blue sky and clouds underneath them.

 

"And so am I." She turns back to the book.  She can do this: keep her head down, do her bone work, get through the summer with her meager Egyptology knowledge.

 

* * *

 

 Arriving at the site, many hours later, she starts to rethink that.  It's a tent city, full of archaeologists from across the world, locals, and even a National Geographic team, who are making a documentary of the site.  The journalist, Maya Bishop, cheerfully tells them that she has an MA in archaeology from NYU and is hoping to make this documentary as realistic as possible, including the nitty-gritty details that most documentaries gloss over. 

 

Vic settles next to Travis, her best friend and an osteology third-year grad student, when the site supervisor gets up to talk.  "My name is Dr. Deb Frankel and I am affiliated with California University Los Angeles.  I run the site for Dr. Lucas Ripley, who I'm sure you all have heard of -" She glares at the group of archaeologists and students in front of her "who will be on site but is not to be disturbed about things.  Dr. Ripley deals with research, I handle the admin of the site.  You have a problem, you come to me.  _But_ ," she says sternly, "you better have a good reason.  This is a scientific site, _not_ a playground and I expect you to all act professionally while you are here."  She nods, and turns on her heel, getting down from the make-shift podium.

 

"She sure seems nice," Travis mutters under his breath, and Vic smiles, punching him in the arm lightly, when a guy -- blonde curly hair, the beginnings of a beard, and the bluest eyes Vic has ever seen -- gets up. 

 

"Hello, everyone!  I'm Dr. Lucas Ripley, and welcome to the Reyahh Oasis!  I don't want to keep you from settling in, so I'll just shortly say that I hope we can have a very productive field season this year.  And I'd like to bow our heads for a quick moment for the passing of Dr. Pruitt Herrera, a friend and a great Egyptologist, who is sorely missed."  The entire camp bowed their heads for a moment, until Ripley clapped his hands.  "All right!  I’m releasing you with just the reminder that we start early in the morning.  Have a great night!”  He follows after Frankel.

 

“He’s cute,” Travis mutters to Vic.

 

“Yeah, guess so.”  She murmurs back, but her mind isn’t on Dr. Ripley.  She’s officially here, at the site, and raring to go.  Time to get unpacked.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day dawns bright and early, but she’s ready to go.  This may be her first time in Egypt, but it’s not her first field experience, and she knows how to layer and deal with her tools.  She pulls on her khaki cargo pants and a white tank, over which she layers a linen button-down, and puts on copious amounts of sunscreen and bug-spray.  Archaeology is fun, but it’s not the cleanest or most bug-free of subjects. She grabs her knapsack and is ready to go.

 

Breakfast is served in the mess tent, and she eats with Travis and his tent neighbor, an archaeologist from NYU named Dean, Jack and Andy.  For people who are competing for the same position, Jack and Andy are rather friendly.  Vic puts her head down and eats her toast.  None of her business, she reminds herself.  She’s here to work, not get involved with other people’s drama.

 

She kind of wishes she had paid more attention at breakfast, however, when halfway through the morning, she hears shouting and looks up from her grave to see Jack and Andy standing about 100 feet away.  The entire dig comes to a halt as they stare daggers at each other. Finally, Jack stomps off – or at least tries to.

 

What Jack doesn’t realize is that he happens to be standing next to a larger trench.  His foot gets tangled in the line, and he ends up going sprawling into the trench, taking a large portion of the trench wall with him.

 

Silence.

 

“ _What the hell_ , Gibson!”  Frankel comes stomping over, people moving quickly out of her way.  “And _you_ , Herrera!  You shouldn’t even _be_ on this dig.  Both of you, _move it_.  We’re going to my office.”  Her office happens to be a walled off section of the main administration tent.  “And no one touch that caved in wall – Gibson will be fixing it after we’re done!”

 

The three of them walk off, and Travis whistles lowly.  “Wow.”

 

“I guess the ‘break the wall, buy everyone a beer’ rule doesn’t apply here,” Vic tries to joke, but it falls flat.  She sighs. 

 

“I know Andy from undergrad.”  Maya Bishop says from behind them.  The two archaeologists turn to look at her.  She holds a notebook in her hands.  She squats down next to them.  “And Gibson too,” she adds, scowling.  Apparently, there’s a bit of history there.  “It’s part of why I wanted to come on this dig.” 

 

“It was your idea?” Travis asks.  “You didn’t get like assigned?”

 

“I pitched the idea, and with the recent discovery of the cancer skeletons that was written about in Live Science, my bosses decided it was a good idea.”  She sticks her pen out to point at the skull Vic has slowly been excavating.  “How’s it going?”

 

“Good.”  Vic replies.  She uses a thin paintbrush caked with dirt from previous digs to brush some loose sand away.  “Still getting started.”

 

“Cool.” Maya stands.  “Well, I’ll leave you to work.  Be sure to holler if you find anything interesting.”

 

“Will do!”  Vic and Travis chime, as they watch her leave.

 

“We haven’t even made it to lunch yet and our boss is getting his ass handed to him by the site supervisor.”  Travis sighs.  “I wonder what’s left to come.”

 

“I don’t know. Keep working.”  Vic says, her head bowed as she delicately uses a dental tool to move a layer of sand away. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I got chewed out by Frankel _and_ Ripley.”  Jack plops himself down onto the bench next to Vic.  She looks up from her lunch. 

 

“It took that long?” Dean asks.  He has joined the UW group to eat once again.  “I’ve been on this dig three years and never saw Frankel go off on someone like that in front of everyone.”

 

“I mean part of it was Ripley getting after _her_ ,” Andy chimes in, her fork halfway to her mouth.  “For making the scene worse.”  She puts her fork down.  “But yeah, he was pissed.  Apparently in his entire time at this site, he’s never had someone destroy a profile like that.”  She sighs.  “I don’t see what the big deal is – Jack fixed it.”

 

“You never destroy a profile.” The archaeologists all say together.

 

“Like I deserved the yelling for that,” Jack admits, stabbing at his plate.  “It was the guilt trip from Ripley about keeping personal problems away from the field and how if I wasn’t prepared for the responsibility, then the university should have sent someone else.” 

 

“That’s rough, buddy.”  Dean says.

 

“That’s unfair,” Vic replies hotly.  “You’re doing a good job in an impossible situation.”

 

“And we need to announce it to you – and the rest of the UW team – that we were together but no longer are.”  Andy says.  Travis chokes on his water.

 

“Wait, what?”  Vic stares at her. 

 

Ben Warren, a doctor turned pathologist turned amateur archaeologist (he wouldn’t be starting UW’s archaeology program until the fall), thumps Travis on the back.  “I’m with Vic.  What?”

 

“Jack and I were dating.  He proposed, I said no, we’re not together any longer.”

 

“You _proposed_?” The table yells, causing once again the entire camp to fall silent.

 

“Carry on!”  Ripley yells from the entrance, and the chatter starts up again.

 

“I didn’t _propose_ ,” Jack insists. 

 

“You have a ring, Jack.” Andy plays with the remnants of food on her plate, moving her fork through them. 

 

“But I wasn’t planning on _giving_ it to you yet.”  He counters.  “I didn’t get the _chance_ to propose – you saw it and freaked out.”

 

“I did not _freak out_ , I –”

 

“We don’t need the details,” Ben cuts in.  “I think knowing you were together and aren’t any longer is enough.”

 

“Yeah, that’s way more than I wanted to know,” Vic says, pushing her plate away.  “Just tell me, did you ever make out in the grad student lounge?  Because if so, you two get to clean the place before I step foot in there again.” She shudders.  The lounge at UW needs a cleaning anyways, but thinking about Andy and Jack doing _stuff_ in there… ick.  No.

 

“I’ll clean it when we get back,” Jack says.

 

“Great.  Just great.”

 

* * *

 

 

Despite the rather eventful first day, the rest of the week is relatively simple.  They get up early, eat breakfast, excavate, eat lunch, excavate, eat dinner, listen to presentations on the day’s research, go to bed, and repeat the process.  Oh, there’s some partying – you can’t have a dig and be completely fun free – but it’s muted.  Everyone is working too hard to really cut loose.

 

It’s into the second week, when a staff archaeologist Vic doesn’t know comes to get her from her grave with Travis.

 

“You have a phone call,” she says.

 

“A phone call?”  Hardly anyone has cell reception out there in the desert, but Ripley and Frankel do keep a phone in the headquarters tent.  Vic gets up and follows after her.  “Why do I have a phone call?”

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.  I was just sent to get you,” the woman says softly.  “It’s at headquarters.”

 

“Okay then.”  They make it to headquarters, and Vic finds herself facing Dr. Ripley. 

 

“Victoria,” he says, his voice washing over her.  “You have an important phone call.”

 

“I should hope it’s important,” she jests weakly, “if they tracked me down at a dig in Egypt to call me.”

 

“Come to my office,” he says.  He lifts up his arm, like he wants to put it around her shoulders, but then lets it fall again.  “I’ll give you some privacy.”

 

She sees the rest of the admin staff watching them.  She nods mutely.  It isn’t lost on her that this call, for whatever reason, has to be important enough to track her down.  Ripley’s office is much like Frankel’s – a corner of the tent sectioned off, with a camp table as a desk, a laptop computer, rugs on the sand, and camp chairs.  He also has a scanner and piles of books around his desk, with a full bookshelf as well. 

 

He points towards the satellite phone, and she takes it, watching him leave.

 

“Um, hello?”

 

“Is this Victoria Hughes?”  An unknown woman speaks.

 

“Yes, this is she.” 

 

“Ms. Hughes, this is the Chicago Police Department.  We got this number from your university.  I’m sorry to tell you that your parents Rita and Darren Hughes were killed in a car accident yesterday evening, local time.”

 

She doesn’t remember the rest of the conversation.

 

She doesn’t remember hanging up the phone, or leaving Ripley’s office, or doing anything until she’s walked through camp in a stupor and ends up on one of the dunes surrounding camp. 

 

Then she cries.

 

She doesn’t know how long she sits there alone, but it’s long enough for it to get dark.  She can see the lights of camp down the slope and a part of her knows she should get back before someone comes looking for her, but she can’t move.

 

Her parents are gone.

 

Vic has an older sister, Elizabeth, who lives in Florida.  She’s not alone in the world – at least not completely.  But Elizabeth is twelve years older and well-established in life, with a family of her own.  The sisters aren’t close – they never have been.  For all intents and purposes, she _is_ alone now.

 

“My parents died when I was in college.”  She looks up.  Dr. Ripley stands a few feet away, a flashlight in his hands. 

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”  She says monotonously. 

 

“They died my freshman year, actually.  Car accident.  Both killed on impact.  They left me with my little sister Jennifer – who was eleven at the time.  And I thought the world was going to cave in on me.  Suddenly I went from a regular college freshman to an orphan and the parent of an eleven year-old in one fell swoop.”  He takes a step closer.  “I’m not telling you this to lessen the impact of your parents dying.  But I do want you to know that you’re not alone.”

 

“Thanks.” She says, though it comes out “thaks” due to her stuffed-up nose.

 

“It might seem that way, especially at first.  But things get easier, as time goes on.”  He steps up next to her and lowers himself into the sand.  “Here.”  He hands her a tissue.

 

“I do have an older sister, but we’re not close,” she confesses, looking away from him.  “And I wasn’t terribly close to my parents either.  They were older when they had me, and were ready to be free of kids when I went to college.  So I don’t even know why I’m so upset.”

 

“They were still your parents,” he points out.  This time he actually does put an arm around her.  “I’m very sorry for your loss, Victoria.”

 

“I’m sorry about yours too,” she murmurs.

 

They sit there, his arm around her shoulders, until someone from camp comes to get them.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

The next day, she returns to normal.  Ripley instantly took his arm down when the other archaeologist came and got them, and they walked back to the tents in silence.  She wakes up when her alarm goes off, gets ready, and heads to breakfast. Travis puts his arm on hers when she slides in next to him, but no one says anything as the table that has unofficially become the UW table barely spares her a glance.

 

“Ripley told us you had a personal tragedy and to leave you alone,” her best friend says into her ear, sotto-voce.  

 

“Oh. Good.  That was nice of him.”  She mumbles into her toast.  She has a schedule she’s trying to stick to, with a lot of graves that still need excavating.  Losing yesterday isn’t great, but she couldn’t help it. She still feels raw underneath the layers of sunscreen and bug repellent.

 

“Yeah…” Travis looks at her a moment longer before going back to his food.

 

“As your current supervisor,” Jack says, “I want to say you can have all the time you need.”

 

“Thanks, but I don’t need – or want – any time.”  She takes a swig of coffee. The stereotype of archaeologists living on beer and coffee is not unfounded.  “I already lost yesterday.”

 

“We’re just saying that you have the time if you want it,” Andy butts in.

 

“And I don’t need it.”  She gulps the rest of her coffee and stands up – to meet Dr. Ripley’s eyes across the crowded tent.  They continue to hold each other’s gaze for a few more seconds until he breaks away and turns to Frankel on his right to talk.

 

She buses her tray and goes outside to continue where she left off.  Travis has exposed most of the body now, but the head is still mostly covered, just the way she left it.  Settling down, she pulls out her dental tools and puts in her headphones to listen to music on her phone. She’s just going to take things one day at a time.

 

* * *

  
  


Another week passes.  Her group sticks together at meals, and they’re busy doing their own work during the days.  Jack is knee-deep in research for his dissertation every morning in the research tent, while excavating in the afternoon, but he still tries to be a big brother to her – and everyone else in the group, including Andy.  Vic has started to spend time in the research tent as well, not just excavating, doing some of her reading. Ripley spends a fair amount of his time there, bringing books from his office, and taking new ones back there. She and Dr. Ripley occasionally share eye contact and smiles, but they continue to keep their distance.

 

It’s enough to know that he’s there and cares.

 

“Ugh, I hate Frankel.”  Andy plops down in a chair next to her in the tent.  Vic looks up from her book.

 

“What’d she do?”  Andy – who apparently made Frankel’s bad side merely for daring to come to the dig while not an archaeologist in any form – groans and puts her head on the table.  

 

“I know Egypt, okay?  Every field season until I was in college – actually, I even spent the summer between my freshman and sophomore years with him – I accompanied my dad to Egypt.  I know the language, I know the people, and I know the sites. And yet Frankel treats me like I’m this total newbie to archaeology. She treats Ben better than she does me, and this is his first field work!”

 

“The grunt work getting you down?”  Vic closes the book: she’s clearly not going to get any more reading done.

 

“I don’t mind grunt work.  Shifting, digging, laying lines, carting away dirt and sand – I get it.  I’ve done it my entire life. It’s the ‘don’t touch anything’ and ‘make sure everyone is hydrated’ that I can’t stand.”  She says into her arms. 

 

“Have you talked to Ripley?”  

 

“Hah!”  Andy barks out.  “Like I’m going to go to him.  He made it clear he’s not on my side either.”  She stands up. “I should go on patrol again with waters.”  She stretches her back. “See you outside.”

 

“You too.”  She watches Andy leave, and goes back to her book.  A shadow falls over her, and she looks up, expecting Andy – or maybe Jack.  

 

It’s Ripley.

 

“How’s the research coming?” he asks, sitting down across from her.  “You’re going into your second year, right?”

 

“Right,” she says, smiling.  “And it’s…going.” She puts out her arm, motioning to the stack of books around her.  “Still got a lot to learn.”

 

“Egyptology isn’t your focus, right? Not even your area emphasis?”  He picks up a book from the top of her stack –  _ An Introduction to the Archaeology of Ancient Egypt  _ by Kathryn Bard.  “This is what I use for my Egyptology 101 students.”

 

She giggles.  He puts the book down and looks at her.  “I’m sorry – it’s just, do you actually call the class Egyptology 101?”

 

He grins at her, and something stirs inside her.  “Well no,” he confesses. “I teach Ancient Egypt – a lower division general ed class, and Egyptology 21, and use the book for both.  But it sounds more fun to say Egyptology 101.”

 

“I guess it does,” she agrees.  “And yes,” she goes back to his previous question, “I haven’t settled on a geographic area yet.  Or era. Just paleopathology. Dr. Herrera thought this summer would be a good chance to try out Egyptology, but I don’t know… there’s so much to learn.”  

 

“I mean, I’m biased, and there is a lot to learn, but Egyptology is such a wonderful field.  And you’d have to learn a lot about any era and geographic location you may choose to specialize in.”  He shrugs. “Before I went into Egyptology, I thought I was going to do the Maya, actually.”

 

“Really?”  She leans forwards.  “I had a class on Mayan archaeology in undergrad.”  

 

“Yeah,” he smiles.  “I went to grad school and was convinced I was going to do Mayan religious archaeology…and then went to Egypt for a field season because the director needed more hands and got hooked.”  He taps her pile of books. “I did it, and you can too.”

 

“Thanks.  Really, I mean, thanks.”  She gazes into his deep blue eyes.  “It definitely makes me feel better.”

 

A voice coughs from the side.  She and Ripley both turn. Jack stands there, his arms full of books.  “Doctor, I had a question?”

 

“Good luck, Hughes.”  Ripley smiles at her one last time and eases himself off the bench.  “What do you need, Gibson?”

 

She watches them leave the tent together.

 

* * *

  
  


She can’t get Ripley out of her head.   The man who had once seemed aloof and in his ivory tower is now human to her.  Their paths don’t cross again – or at least he doesn’t seek her out, and she doesn’t dare to seek him out either.   She watches him, though, as he goes into the admin tent, as he discusses things with Frankel and other archaeologists and the Nat Geo crew, as he talks to his own grad students.  She realizes that besides his own grad students – who he has to interact with – and Jack, she’s the only student he’s talked to beyond a polite “hello” or “excuse me.”

 

It touches her.

 

It’s been a few days since the research tent, and she finally feels good about her level of knowledge – or lack thereof.  Like Ripley said, she’s not supposed to be an expert yet. She’s a specialist, and she’s expected to know her paleopathology, which she does.  But Egyptology is such a vast subject, that she can take the time to relax a bit.

 

So, she does.

 

She packs away most of her Egyptology books and leaves out the one she’s currently reading.  She only spends an hour or so each morning in the research tent, instead spending the rest of the time in the cemetery excavating, or in the lab tent, looking at newly excised bones and charting pathologies.  She feels good.

 

After an afternoon in the lab – Travis good-naturedly teasing her about leaving him to excavate alone – they end up having dinner together.  Dr. Ripley waits until everyone had started eating before he stands up on the bench and calls for attention.

 

“Good evening everyone!  We’re coming onto week four of field session, and I think everyone is doing well so far, am I right?”  General cheering and murmurs of agreement are raised. “But what I wanted to announce tonight is that it happens to be Isabella Guthrie’s birthday.”  Loud cheering breaks out as the woman – a grad student in Egyptian linguistics from Cambridge – stands up. “Hey, I’m not done yet!” The tent falls silent.  “And in light of her birthday, we’re not doing presentations tonight or more research. For birthdays, we always take the evening off to celebrate. There’s going to be cake and other desserts laid out, and if you want to imbibe, I’m not going to stop you, just remember to stay away from the open trenches and that dawn comes earlier than you might expect.  Have a good meal and a fun night!” He sits down again.

 

The tent’s noise level quickly rises again.  “Isabella’s nice,” Dean comments. “But boy am I glad it’s her and not me.”

 

“Not a fan of birthdays?” Ben asks.  

 

“Noooo.” Dean shudders.  “A birthday’s just a regular day of the year.  It doesn’t have to be a big deal or anything.”

 

“Aw, come on, birthdays are fun!”  Jack takes a bite of rice. “Cake, a party – what’s not to like?”

 

“People making a fuss about you getting a year older?”  Dean lets his fork clatter. “You know, I think I’m going to head to my tent and do some reading before tomorrow – my advisor wants a report of my research tomorrow. Bye everyone.”

 

“Bye!” The table calls out as he leaves.

 

Everyone soon finishes their food and gets up to clear their dishes and grab cakes and sweets.  The admin ream – Frankel, Ripley, the other professors, and the staff archaeologists – have left the tent, leaving a group of rambunctious archaeology students to their desserts.

 

It doesn’t take long before someone brings out the beer – and stronger stuff.

 

Vic takes a beer when offered, and nurses it through the night of chatter and celebration.  People start breaking off to go outside or to bed, but she lingers. Eventually the UW table leaves, except  Vic, who decides to stay. Maybe it was how she was raised, but she can’t see the dining tent littered with trash and refuse and not help clean up.  It’s part of what makes using the grad lounge at UW so hard for her – the need to clean it up. 

 

She starts slowly cleaning tables, as the tent finally empties.  Most people have taken care of their own trash, but there’s fallen pieces here and there, and she starts to duck under a table to pick it up. 

 

“You don’t have to do that.”  She looks up from underneath a bench and sees Ripley.

 

“I know, but I feel like it’s the right thing to do,”  she ducks out and stands, wiping her hands on her pants.  

 

“If you say so,” he says, with a small smile on his face.  “I was hoping to get a piece of cake myself.” He looks towards the serving table with the remnants of a cake and some local sweets.  

 

“It’s good,” she says, with a smile.  “Not really like an American cake, but good all the same.”  She pauses. “It was nice of you to do this for her.”

 

“Oh, it wasn’t me.  It was Dr. Lincoln – her advisor.” He holds out a hand and motions to the trash bag she’s holding.  “Here, I’ll take that.”

 

“Um, thanks.”  She gives it to him, and he goes to the next table and picks up the trash there.  “But really, you should get your cake.”

 

“I don’t mind helping. Like you said, it’s the right thing to do.”  She comes to join him and they both start to pick up trash.

 

“I didn’t mean to guilt you—” 

 

“Victoria,” he says, turning towards her.  “I want to help you.”

 

“All right,” she falls silent, and they finish busing trash.

 

The tent isn’t as clean as it was before dinner, but it’s definitely cleaner than it was.  They share a smile, and Ripley finally grabs a piece of cake. “The local crew will be here in the morning and wipe things down – like they always do.”

 

“That’s good,” she murmurs, eating what passes as a cookie.  She might claim it’s the beer except she’s not even a little bit buzzed, but he looks…good.  Like really good, in his light blue button-down and cargo pants. It’s nothing special – typical dig wear – but on him it looks special.

 

She has to get outside.

 

“Do you –”

 

“How are –”

 

They both stop, and look at each other, before laughing softly.

 

“You go first,” he says, gesturing with a fork.

 

“Do you want to go outside?” She asks.

 

He smiles at her. “Sure, sounds good.”  He takes a last bite of his cake and lets it fall into the open trash bag at his side.

 

They walk together outside, hands a hairbreadth away from brushing.  She wants nothing more than to take his hand but doesn’t dare. He puts his hands in his pockets.

 

“It’s amazing,” she says, looking up at the stars.

 

“It really is,” he murmurs, as they keep walking.  The rest of camp has gone dark and silent. She doesn’t know what time it is, only that it’s late.  They wind their way around the trenches and admin tents to the sleeping quarters, where everyone has their own tents set up.  Hers is in the back, with no close neighbors. It isn’t entirely on purpose – while she does like privacy, she wouldn’t mind having closer neighbors.  But UW was some of the last to arrive, and since she didn’t really known anyone that well to start with, she ended up on the unofficial “girls” side in the back.

 

“I didn’t think I’d love it here,” she finally says, turning to him, as they approach her tent from the back.  “But I think I do.”

 

He smiles in the moonlight.  “I’m very glad, Victoria.”

 

She bites her lip.  “Um, I –” She what? Wants to kiss him? Because she does, so very much in that moment.  “Thanks,” she settles upon. “For, you know, being there for me when my parents…”

 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he takes a step closer to her.  They’re close, already so close, and she can barely stand it. 

 

“And you’ve been nice afterwards too, and, and,” she stammers, “and this may be a very bad idea, but -” 

 

“But –” he gets out before she closes the distance and kisses him.

 

His lips are somewhat chapped – a hazard of being in the dry desert air.  She’s about to back down, when his mouth opens for her, and he deepens the kiss, his arms coming to hold her close to him.  She puts her arms around him and presses against him, causing him to groan.

 

No, she thinks to herself, this isn’t a bad idea – it’s a great one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Fandommatchmaker19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandommatchmaker19/pseuds/fandommatchmaker19) for beta-ing!
> 
> [An Introduction to the Archaeology of Ancient Egypt](https://www.amazon.com/Introduction-Archaeology-Ancient-Egypt/dp/0470673362/ref=dp_ob_title_bk) is a real book, though I haven't read it myself. 
> 
> Archaeologists can have multiple emphases: technique, area and era. My area emphasis is Central Europe, for instance. Vic's emphasis at the moment is just paleopathology, but she might be adding Egypt as an area...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

She wakes up well before her alarm goes off, well-rested and satisfied.  Too satisfied, she soon realizes, as the events of the night before come crashing into her memory.  She sits up and finds Lucas Ripley still sleeping in her open sleeping bag, her sheet wrapped around his middle. (Thank God she brought a sheet and a blanket with her on top of her sleeping bag – sometimes she finds sleeping bags too confining or too hot.)

 

“Oh shit,” she whispers, looking down.  Yep, she’s completely naked. Lucas shifts and it’s obvious that he’s naked under that sheet.  She grabs a clean tank and underwear from the top of her duffel bag, finds her cargo pants, and gets dressed as quickly, quietly and motionless as she can, before slipping her feet in her flip-flops and rushing in the first remnants of light to the bathroom area.

 

By the time she returns to her tent, fifteen minutes later, he is thankfully gone.

 

She climbs into the tent and falls face first into her newly zipped up sleeping bag – pillow and blankets folded neatly beside it.  

 

What had she done?

 

* * *

  
  


Thirty minutes later her alarm goes off, and she gets up and pulls on another button-down.  She emerges from her tent, not looking forwards to facing him at breakfast, but when she enters the breakfast tent, he is absent from the staff table.  

 

She grabs her usual coffee (black with two sugars) and toast (and jam) and is the first one at the UW table.  She’s almost done with her first cup of coffee when Dean joins her, followed by Travis and Jack. Andy – and Maya Bishop – follow, before Warren joins as the last of the group.  

 

“Long night?”  Travis asks her quietly.

 

“Me? No! Not at all! Why would you say that?” She takes a big gulp of coffee.  “Look at that – I’m done with my first cup; I’ll be right back!”

 

She flees to get a new cup, and by the time she comes back, Travis, Dean and Maya are talking about Dean’s current girlfriend – who just happens to be an ex of Maya’s.  Glad she’s finally not the center of attention, she lets herself relax a bit. She doesn’t have the brain power to worry about Ripley – Lucas – Ripley. She has to worry about her own work instead.

 

Except, she unfortunately realizes, she can’t stop thinking about him.  Intent on avoiding Travis, she spends the entire morning in the research tent, where she barely gets anything read (Ripley never shows), gobbles down a filled pastry for lunch (Ripley isn’t there either), and goes to the lab tent, where she is alone with Jack, who is looking at sherds under a microscope.    

 

Finally, she can’t take the silence anymore.  “So, Jack, can I ask you a question?”

 

“Of course!  I am a fountain of advice!”  He looks up from his microscope and scoots back in his seat.  “I’m no bioarchaeologist but –”

 

“So, say hypothetically that you have an adult sleepover–”

 

“Oh, this kind of advice,” he says, completely deadpan. He looks around and motions her closer.  “Go on.”

 

She comes over to his work station.  “And when they wake up, the person who the place belongs to is gone.”

 

“So you don’t like this guy very much.”  He leans forwards.

 

“I didn’t say this was me! It’s hypothetical, remember?”

 

“Okay, so it sounds like Mr. Hypothetical woke up and assumes you don’t like him very much.”  Jack looks back to his sherds.

 

“It’s not that! I – I don’t know if I like him or not.”  She scratches the back of her head. “I haven’t even thought about that.  I was just thinking about having to pee and how anything with him gets a little complicated, and as good as that adult sleepover was – no, I mean –” She gives up on keeping it hypothetical.  “I panicked and ran. So, tell me, advice machine, what do I do?”

 

“Well,” he steeples his hands in his lap, “Sneaking out is what you do when you flee the scene of a crime.  You can’t run forever, eventually you’ll have to talk to the guy.” He motions around the tent. “Especially here.  So, who was it?”

 

She rolls her eyes and walks away.  “Go back to your sherds, Jack.” 

 

She goes to her tent – the scene of the crime, her mind supplies – and grabs a book to read until dinner.

 

* * *

  
  


It’s not until after dinner and after presentations that she’s still hanging around the tent, gathering up her stuff, when Jack approaches her again.  “Did you talk to him?” He asks.

 

“No.” She inserts the handout into her notebook.  “I might. I will –”

 

“So you do care about Mr. Hypothetical.”

 

“No.  Maybe. I might.  I don’t know! I mean I snuck out and you’re the one that said that meant I didn’t care.”  She tosses her notebook into her bag. “But I do care – a little. Maybe. It’s so early and – it’s just it would be so much easier if it were a one-and-done, and-” she breaks off.  “I don’t know.”

 

Jack looks at her, before frowning.  “Dr. Ripley.”

 

Vic fights to keep her face straight, but she knows she’s failed when Jack gets this look in his eye.  

 

“Hey, you two.  We’re turning out the lights here in just a moment, so if you want to head somewhere else to talk?” Ripley smiles at them – at her.

 

“Of – of course.” Vic replies.  “We’re done here.”

 

Jack nods.  “Good night, sir.  Vic.” He leaves.

 

“Victoria –”

 

“I—”

 

They stop, stare into each other’s eyes.   She can’t take it anymore.

 

“I didn’t mean to leave you this morning, but I had to pee,”  she says which is not…technically a lie, because she did have to go to the bathroom.

 

“It’s fine,” he says softly, as the lights go out.  “Here,” he turns on a flashlight, but Vic has already fished out her own. She flicks it on, keeping the beam down.

 

“I, um,” she rubs the back of her head, “I had a lot of fun last night.”

 

“I did too.”  

 

“And I – I wouldn’t mind it happening again,”  she rushes out.

 

“Oh?”  he smiles in the darkness.  “I wouldn’t mind either.” But then his voice gets lower.  “But we have to be careful. I’m – I’m not your graduate advisor, but I am an established professor in the field and the director of this site and if anyone got a whiff of it –”

 

“We’d have a lot of explaining to do.” She finishes.  “If they even let us explain at all.”

 

“Yeah.”  He shines his flashlight to the opening of the tent.  “Come on, I’ll walk you to your tent.”

 

“And stay?” She asks half-playfully.  Honestly, she doesn’t know what she’d do if he did.

 

“No, not tonight.”  His voice is soft and low.  “I wish, but…”

 

“Not a good idea.  Right. Okey dokey.”  Who even says that anymore?  She feels like a teenager.

 

He huffs a laugh before changing the subject, “how was your day?”

 

“Good.  Research and then lab.  How was yours?” Their hands brush, and he takes hers.  Camp is largely quiet, but they still take the back way to her tent.

 

“Administrative stuff and research at my desk.”  

 

Too soon they’re at her tent.  They both look around them carefully, making sure they’re alone, before he tilts her head up and places a sweet kiss on her lips.  “Sleep well, Victoria.”

 

“Sleep well, Lucas.”

 

He waits until she enters and she gives him a wave before he leaves.

 

She crawls into the sleeping bag and grabs her pillow, wishing it was him, before drifting off, still in her clothes.

 

* * *

  
  
  


It’s two days later, two days of them sharing fleeting glances across the room, when Jack comes to lunch and slams his plate down onto the table.  Andy follows, looking just as annoyed, but managing to put her dishes down gently. 

 

“They’re flying in a new professor.”

 

“What?”  Travis asks, around a bite of bread.

 

“UW is flying in a new professor – another Egyptologist – who they just hired to replace Herrera.  He’s taking over the supervisory position from me.” Jack stabs at his meat with his fork. “Robert Sullivan.  Formerly of CULA, though he’s been in Montana the last few years.”

 

“I’ve heard of him,”  Vic pipes up, realizing she has.  She’s just read an article of his on mortuary architecture of the Late Dynasty period.  

 

“He’s coming today.  Like he got on the flight yesterday.”  Jack says, stabbing at a vegetable this time.  “They’re picking him up in Cairo and he should be here tonight or tomorrow.”

 

“Wow,” Ben says.

 

“That sucks,” Travis mutters, and Vic nods in agreement.

 

Sullivan will end up being her advisor in Egyptology, and she hopes he’s decent.  Not as a scholar – she knows he would have to be to get the position at UW. But she hopes he’s a decent person, and a good advisor, which isn’t always something universities take into account.  She doesn’t even remember Sullivan interviewing for the position, when Dr. Herrera initially stepped down during the beginning of spring semester for his cancer treatment.

 

“Listen up, everyone!”  Ripley comes striding into the dining tent.  The tent gets quiet, as everyone turns to look at him.  “We’ve just gotten confirmation that there is a sandstorm coming.  Staff will be locking up the equipment, but I want you all to secure your personal belongings in your tents – which should be fine, by the way, and pack a bag after lunch.  We’ll be moving into town to a hotel while the storm hits and return after the storm.” He claps his hands. “Finish up your lunch and move.”

 

Vic eats her last two bites and gulps down her juice, before busing her dishes. Ripley is by the trash cans too, discussing something with two locals, before he breaks away. “When I said finish up, I didn’t mean you had to finish right then and there,” he jokes.

 

Vic smiles at him, hoping it isn’t too obvious.  “I was just about done anyways.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.  “Is the sandstorm going to be bad?”

 

“Not too bad,” he replies, putting his hands in his pockets. “But we’re a bunch of foreigners, so it’s best to get into town and hole up until it passes.  It should be fine tomorrow.”

 

“Sounds good.”  She shifts back to the other foot, clutching one arm.  “Do you know about Sullivan?” She blurts out.

 

“Sully?”  he asks, raising a brow.  “So, Jack broke the news.”  He sighs. “I know Jack isn’t too happy, but really he shouldn’t have been put in the supervisory position in the first place.”

 

“Is he nice?” She blurts out, and then blushes, wanting to cover her mouth.  “I mean –”

 

Ripley smiles at her again,  “I don’t know if nice is the word I’d use, but he’s a great archaeologist and will be a good advisor, I think.”  People begin approaching them with their trash, and he steps away from her. “Good luck, I’ll see you in a bit.”

 

“Thanks,” she says, as he walks away, “I think.”

 

* * *

  
  


An hour later, the entire camp is gathered in the mess tent, everyone wearing a backpack.  Ripley makes his way through the various groups of students and professors, handing professors folders.  He hands one to Jack, who opens it. The rest of the group leans in. It’s hotel reservations and directions in town.

 

“I’ve been wondering about the town,” Ben says.

 

“It’s pretty quaint,” Andy says.  

 

“Yeah, we usually end up there once every summer, when it either gets too hot and Dr. Ripley decides we could use some air conditioning, or for a sandstorm.”  Dean munches on a granola bar. “The hotel’s pretty nice.”

 

“Cool.”  Vic frowns.  “Wait – is there a pool? I didn’t pack a swimsuit.”  

 

“No pool, Vic.” Jack laughs.  

 

“Too bad.”  

 

Frankel enters the tent.  “Listen up! The buses are here.  We will proceed in an orderly fashion to the buses, where we will board.  We’re all adults here, I don’t care who you want to sit with. Just take a seat and sit down so we can move out.  Once we get to the hotel, you’ll check in with whatever school you’re with, and then you’re on your own until dinner time, which will be in the hotel restaurant.  The storm is expected to come tonight, so make sure you are in doors when it gets dark.”

 

“Yes, ma’am!” the entire group responds, but instead of being mocked, Frankel just nods stately. 

 

“Good.  Let’s move!”

 

* * *

  
  


The hotel is nice.  It’s more a hostel than a hotel, with mostly double rooms.  Jack is a bit sour he doesn’t get his own room like the professors do and is sharing with Travis, while Ben is paired with an incoming grad student in linguistics.  Vic ends up paired with Andy. 

 

Vic tosses her stuff on the bed closest to the door and goes to the window to look out.  There’s a small walled-in garden with a fountain and some chairs. No pool, like Jack said.  “You okay?” Andy says, putting her backpack on the other bed. 

 

“Yeah, I’m good, why?”  Vic turns back to face her.

 

“Because Maya and Ryan and I were going to hang out for a bit and revisit the town.”

 

“Ryan?” Vic goes to sit on her bed.  

 

“Ryan Tanner.  He’s, um, he’s Maya’s photographer,”  Andy moves a lock of hair behind her ear.  “We grew up together, actually. I think my dad may be the reason he has his job.”

 

“Oh?”  She can tell there’s more to the story than that.  

 

“Yeah, his dad – you ever hear of Greg Tanner?”  Andy sits down on her bed. Vic shakes her head. “Well, his dad is a disgraced classicist.  Escaped criminal charges, but his career was in ruins. It happened while we were in high school, actually.  But Ryan still got into UW, and was a photography major, and completely separated himself from the world of historical research.  Until he ended up hired at Nat Geo, which yeah, I think was partly because of my dad. Not that Ryan isn’t a good photographer,” she hurriedly adds.  “But I know my dad has – had connections to Nat Geo, and Ryan was young to be hired right out of undergrad.”

 

“And now he’s here with Maya,”  Vic adds. “Sounds like a fun time.”

 

“Oh, do you want to go?”  Andy looks at her, flustered.  “I mean –”

 

“No, really – you three should go and like reconnect or whatever,”  Vic waves her off. “I’ll probably hang out with Travis.”

 

“Right, have a good time!”  Andy grabs her purse from her backpack and heads to the door.  “See you at dinner.”

 

“See you then!”  Vic waves as Andy leaves.

 

The door clicks, and Vic falls back against her pillow.  It’s nice to lay on a bed – the sand is softer than she thought it would be, and she has a camping mat, but it’s just not the same as a real mattress on a real bed.  Even better, she thinks, would be if a certain someone was there to share it with her.

 

She gets up, a plan starting to form in her head.

 

The halls are littered with students and even professors.  She says hello to some but brushes off offers to join up. She gets to the lobby and spies Ripley standing there with Frankel and another staff member, talking.  She slows her pace and catches his eye, before smiling in what she hopes is a seductive manner, before walking out of the lobby and onto the street.

 

It’s easy to get lost in the street, and she uses this to her advantage.  

 

Until a hand wraps around her upper arm, that is.  For a split second she second-guesses her plan and gets ready to scream – after all, she’s a young woman in a foreign country who just got grabbed.  But then she relaxes as she sees who it is.

 

“So, you did find me,” she murmurs.

 

“I had to,”  he tells her. Ripley looks down at her, releasing her arm.  “After you looked at me like that in the lobby…”

 

“I couldn’t resist,”  she smiles and looks around quickly before kissing him lightly on the lips.  

 

“We still probably shouldn’t be doing this in public,” he mutters against her lips, but hugs her tightly to him.

 

“Probably not, but I couldn’t resist,” she doesn’t pull away from his embrace.  “Let’s wander and you can show me your favorite spots.”

 

“Sounds good,”  he agrees and takes her hand in his and they slip once again into the crowd, moving further and further away from the hotel and their group.

 

* * *

  
  


All good things must come to an end, including their free time together.  They stop holding hands once they get near enough to the hotel that students – who had been warned not to travel too far – might see them.  Their talk turns to more professional matters, like what she’s been reading lately and their individual research.

 

He spouts off a list of authors she should check out and she takes her phone out of her purse to take notes.  She’s pleased to find she actually has service here – that the international sim card she bought before the trip is actually worth it.  “And there’s Sullivan, of course. You should read everything by Sully.”

 

“Do you two know each other?”  She looks at him. “Jack mentioned he was in Montana last but had been at CULA.”

 

“I know him,”  he seems weary.  “We used to be great friends, but then – well, it’s his story to tell.  But he’s a brilliant Egyptologist, and you’re lucky to have him.”

 

“I’m looking forwards to it,”  she touches his arm lightly, in what she hopes looks like a regular friendly matter.  She spies Travis and Ben walking around looking at street stalls. “I see my friends; I better go.”

 

“Yes, you should,”  he puts his hands in his pockets.  “See you tonight.”

 

“See you then.”  And with one last flirtatious look back, she strolls confidently towards her friends.

 

Travis looks up as she approaches and grins.  “Hey, there you are! I wondered.”

 

“I just wanted to explore a bit myself,”  she shrugs. “How are things?”

 

“I’m thinking of buying a scarf for my wife,”  Ben says, holding up two options. “But I can’t make up my mind.”

 

“I say go with the blue.” 

 

“That’s what I said,”  Travis pokes her lightly.  “Maybe he’ll listen to the actual woman.”

 

“If I know what’s good for me, I will,”  Ben chuckles and takes out his wallet to pay the merchant.  Sticking the scarf and his wallet back into his bag, he turns.  “So time for dinner, then?”

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

They take up most of the restaurant.  The UW group grabs a booth in the back and they slide in, with her next to Dean and across from Travis.  

 

Ripley waits until everyone is seated before standing up.  “Hello, everyone! I’m pleased to see you’ve all made it back to the hotel.  As a reminder, no one is to go outside after dark. Not that we’re leaving you with nothing to do: there’s the game room with a foosball table and a ping pong table, plus in the entertainment room we will be playing archaeology movies, starting with _The Mummy_ trilogy after dinner.  Breakfast is from seven to nine, but we will be leaving at nine sharp, so I suggest you eat earlier than later. _Bon Appetit_.”

 

“Hear, hear!”  The students cheer, and the waiters open the buffet.

 

Ripley looks around the room, and Vic smiles when their eyes meet.  Jack gives her a look, and she kicks his foot under the table. 

 

* * *

  
  


“Room 314, room 314…” She mutters under her breath as she walks down the third floor hallway.  The halls are empty – most students are watching  _ The Mummy _ and she would be too, if she didn’t have better plans.   Finally she spies the correct door and knocks softly. It opens a crack, and she looks up and down the hallway just to make sure, before she pushes it open and enters.

 

Immediately his arms are around her waist and his lips are on hers.

 

“Lucas…” she murmurs.

 

He stops and pulls away,  “I don’t know if we should be doing this, Victoria.”

 

“I think we should be,” she says as she wraps her arms around his neck.  “Come on.”

 

“It’s not – we’re – I ‘d be taking advantage of you,”  he pulls back a little. “I’m the site director and you’re – you’re a second year graduate student.”

 

“Taking advantage implies a lack of consent on my part,”  she shoots back at him. “I’m a grown woman standing here, consenting.” She stares deeply into his eyes.  “I’m the definition of consent.”

He nods imperceptibly, his eyes still gazing into hers.  

 

“Lock the door,” she says.

 

He locks the door.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Fandommatchmaker19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandommatchmaker19/pseuds/fandommatchmaker19) for beta-ing!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

Waking in Lucas’s arms is an amazing thing, and she regrets running away their first time.  She cuddles into his chest, and he strokes down her bare back. “This is wonderful,” she murmurs into his chest.  “You’re wonderful.”

 

He chuckles.  “You’re pretty wonderful yourself.”

 

She looks up into his eyes.  “Is it bad of me to not want to leave?”

 

“Not bad of you, no.  I wouldn’t mind staying here myself,” he leans to give her a kiss.

 

It starts off sweet but quickly heats up.  

 

Afterwards she sits up, letting the sheet pool at her waist, and stretches.  “That is the best way to start off a morning.”

 

“I’m glad you think so,”  he sits up as well, kissing her shoulder. “But you should probably go.”

 

“Yeah…” she looks at his window, where dawn is gracing the sky.  “I should go,” she sighs though she makes no move to leave.

 

He moves her hair to the side and kisses the back of her neck,  “go, please. Before I get too involved.”

 

She giggles,  “you’re the one kissing me, thank you very much.  But yes, I’m going.” She swings her legs out from underneath the sheet and stands, before turning around and leaning to kiss him deeply.  “Tonight?”

 

“If I can manage it,” he says around her mouth.

 

“Great.  I’ll be looking forward to it.”  She sash-shays to the door where she finds her clothing – right where it fell last night.  She holds his gaze as she slowly pulls on her underwear and clasps her bra. 

 

“Vic,” he groans.

 

“What, you don’t like the view?” she grins at him.

 

“I like the view a little too much.”  He squirms a bit in the bed. 

 

She sticks out a leg and pulls on her pants slowly, gaze locked with his.  “You’ll just have to wait until tonight.”

 

Once her pants and t-shirt are on, she grabs his clothes from where she threw them and tosses them at him.  They hit him in the chest – he doesn’t even bother to try to catch them. “Good bye, Lucas. See you at breakfast.”

 

“Good bye, Victoria.”

 

* * *

  
  


It’s easy enough to sneak into her room.  She noticed after dinner that Andy and Ryan disappeared, and she hopes that the woman was distracted enough to not pay attention to her whereabouts.  Andy mentioned being a sound sleeper once at camp, so hopefully she’ll have slept the whole night and Vic can just pretend she was part of the party in the entertainment room – when she walked by there just now, there were still people camped out from last night, watching  _ Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull _ .

 

But as she eases into her room, she realizes she has nothing to fear.  Apparently Andy hasn’t made it back last night either. Andy’s bed is still made and her open backpack rests on it just like it had been before dinner.  Quickly messing up her own bed, Vic goes to her backpack and pulls out a clean shirt and underwear to change into. She’s running a brush through her hair when the door cracks open and Andy ducks in.

 

“Oh, Vic!”  She smiles sheepishly.  “Good morning.”

 

“Good morning,” Vic smiles back at her.  “Have a good night?” 

 

Andy blushes.  “Y—yes, actually.  A great one.”

 

“With Ryan?” Vic pulls her curls back into a bun.  

 

“With Ryan,” Andy confirms.  “We, um, used to date, in undergrad.  And we may have rekindled last night…”

 

“Well, good for you.”  Andy looks at her sharply.  Vic holds up her hands. “No really, I mean it.  That’s great.”

 

“Well, thanks.”  Andy shrugs. “And you? How was your night?”

 

For a split second, Vic panics.  Does Andy suspect? But then she realizes she is just making conversation.  “Oh, you know – watched  _ The Mummy _ , ducked out early, went to bed.  It was just really nice sleeping in a real bed, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Andy smiles.  “It was really nice.”

 

Vic grabs her toiletries and motions to the door.  “I’m going to—”

 

“Right.  See you.”

 

Vic ducks out, and almost into Travis.

 

“Hey, missed you last night at the viewing.  You missed a classic.” He grabs her arms to steady her.

 

“Travis, we watch  _ The Mummy _ every month it seems like.  We can quote the entire thing.”

 

“Still doesn’t mean it’s not worth watching again.”  He lets her go. “Where were you?”

 

“In bed.” Not a lie.  “Real bed, real mattress.” Real guy.

 

“Right, that was nice.” He sighs and then yawns.  “Want to get breakfast?”

 

She holds up her toiletries bag.  “As soon as I brush my teeth and stuff, definitely.” 

 

“Great, meet you there.”

 

“See you.”  She watches him go into his own room, two doors down.  Crisis avoided: the two people she was worried about lying to were sufficiently distracted.  It’s time to come back to reality.

 

* * *

  
  


The next two weeks are great.  The camp is pretty much the way they left it, just everything now has a thin dusting of sand on top of it.  Everyone enjoyed their day off, but they all know it’s time to get back to work, and the noise rises as things fall back into the regular schedule of excavating, research, and meals.

 

Lucas doesn’t come to her every night, but enough nights that the nights he isn’t there feel lonely and cold.  Her research – and knowledge – progresses. Sullivan arrives the day they get back to camp, and immediately inserts himself as the UW supervisor.  He sits with the other professors during meals and calls the UW students into his office – another partitioned off area of one of the admin tents – one by one on a daily basis, quizzing them on their daily progress.

 

“I’m so tired of Sullivan.”  Jack complains, moving rice and vegetables around his plate. 

 

“Bad meeting today?” Ben asks, taking a drink.

 

“When isn’t it a bad meeting?” Andy says, looking down at her nearly empty plate.  “I’m not even a student of his and he still wants to be apprised of my every move.”  

 

Vic doesn’t join in – she doesn’t actually mind Sullivan that much.  Sure, he’s tough, and when she appeared one day and hadn’t completed an annotated bibliography he asked for the previous day, simply told her to not make excuses and to just get it done.  Which she did, and he had accepted, giving her positive feedback on it the next day. But he also seems fair, and he is definitely knowledgeable in the field. His background may be in mortuary archaeology, but he knows some bioarchaeology as well, and she feels good about him being her new supervisor.

 

“You know who he does seem to like, though? Vic.”  Travis thumps her shoulder. “Tell us what you’re doing to make him like you.”

 

“I wouldn’t say he likes me,” she says.  “But Dr. Ripley gave me a reading list and Sullivan is making sure I get through it – and I am.”  She takes a bite of bread. “He knows this isn’t my field and I’m junior, and he’s getting me to learn what I need.”  She points her bread at Ben. “He’s gotta know you’re even more junior than I am.”

 

“He thinks I’m just looking for my next thrill.” Ben says.  “Medical doctor, then pathologist, now archaeologist, what’s next?” 

 

“You’re doing good.”  Dean says, the lone non-UW at their table.  “You’ve moved from rubble pick up to sifting.”

 

“Yeah, and it’s lots and lots of rocks.”  Ben looks discouraged.

 

“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but so is archaeology: lots and lots of rocks.”  

 

“Guess so,” Ben mumbles staring at his plate.  

 

Vic eyes the front table, where Sullivan has just stood and is busing his dishes.  “Speaking of meeting Sullivan, I’m up next so I better go.” 

 

“Good luck!” The table calls.

 

* * *

  
  


The meeting goes about as well as it can: she’s done her reading and kept up on her annotated bibliography.  He releases her and instead of turning to the cemetery excavation area or the research and lab tents, she walks through the site instead and up over the dunes surrounding camp.  The dunes aren’t off limits, but most people just don’t have time or the inclination to go climb them, especially the far side. 

 

Vic finds it peaceful.

 

She sits down on the far side of the dune and looks out into the desert.  She can hear camp behind her, but in front of her is only sand, as far as she can see.  She leans back and lays down, closing her eyes. She’s not tired, she just wants to be alone for a minute.

 

“Mind if I join you?”  She opens her eyes and puts her hand over them to block the sun, looking up to see Lucas – Ripley – standing over her.

 

“Of course I don’t mind,” she says.  He sits down next to her, arms around his knees.

 

“What brings you out here?”  He asks.

 

“Just finished meeting with Sullivan.” She shrugs.  “Felt I could use a bit of peace and quiet.”

 

“How is he?” He looks at her. 

 

“He’s…” She sighs.  “He’s very different from Dr. Herrera or Jack.  A lot more formal than either one of them. But he does know his stuff.”

 

“He’ll warm up.”  He puts a hand down on the sand between them and takes a glance around before gently rubbing circles into her side.  She relaxes at his touch. “He hasn’t really been in academia – or Egyptology – for a while.”

 

“Because of whatever happened?”  She remembers their first conversation about him.  

 

“Yeah,” he moves his hand down to her hip to make circles there, “because of that.”

 

“You never said what brought you out here,”  she says languidly. Unlike when excavating, the sun feels good beating down upon her stretched out body.  

 

“I wanted a break from people too,” he offers.  She rolls over onto her side, facing him. “I didn’t know you were out here, but I’m glad you are.”

 

“Me too,” she smiles when he cups her face.  

 

“Vic? Are you there?”  Jack calls out. 

 

Ripley instantly drops his hand from her face, moving away from her.  Vic sits up and looks behind her to see Jack coming into view from the side.  “Hey Jack.” She springs up. “What do you need?”

 

“Oh hey, Dr. Ripley,” he addresses the other man first, before turning to Vic, “just to ask if you have a copy of Boden in your tent.  Sullivan wants me to read it and I can’t find it at the research tent.”

 

“If there’s not a copy in the research tent, Gibson, and Hughes doesn’t have one, I have a copy in my office I’ll let you borrow.”  Ripley speaks up, squinting against the sun. 

 

Vic brushes off sand. “Yeah, I think I have one. I bought it before coming here, because Dr. Herrera said if there was one Egyptology book I should buy, it should be Boden’s.”

 

“He was  right,” Ripley nods.  “I’m surprised you haven’t read it, Gibson.”

 

“Oh, I have, just... it’s been awhile.”  Jack shifts his weight to the other side.  “And Sullivan wants me to look at some tables in the back.”

 

“I see.  Well, have a nice day, you two.  See you at dinner.” He smiles at them, before turning back to face away.

 

“See you, professor,” the two grad students say in unison and leave.

 

Jack waits until they’re out of earshot before muttering, “so you and Mr. Hypothetical –?”

 

“We’re still a thing, yeah.”  She walks briskly, or as briskly as you can through sand.  “Is it a problem for you?”

 

“No! I mean, you’re both consenting adults?” He looks at her sideways, and she nods.  “Then I’m cool with it. Though I think he needs a nickname.”

 

“No nickname,” she says, punching his shoulder.  “We don’t need to talk about it,” she shrugs. “Just two adults happening to take a break at the same time.”

 

“I guess so,”  he says, noncommittally.  

 

They fall into silence the rest of the way into camp.

  
  


Three nights later, she and Ripley are laying in her tent, when she hears a beeping sound.  He sits up and starts rummaging for his pants. “It’s my phone,” he mumbles, as he draws it out of his pocket.

 

“Your phone actually works?”  She has to keep her voice down.  “I thought no one got service out here.”

 

“I have the one plan that does, actually, because I spend enough time out here that I need a working phone.”  He swipes at his screen. “Oh, it’s Jennifer.”

 

“Jennifer?”  she leans back on an elbow, tries to keep her voice nonchalant.  “Who’s that?” It suddenly occurs to her that they really don’t know much about each other.  

 

“Jennifer’s my sister,” he shrugs and smiles at her as he types in something quickly.  

 

“Oh right, I remember you mentioned her.”  The night I found out my parents died goes unspoken, but he hears it anyways and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

 

“She says ‘hello’, by the way.”  He puts his phone back down and leans to kiss her.

 

“Wait,” Vic says, once he’s pulled away again, “she knows about us?”

 

“Yeah, of course!”  He tries to kiss her again, but she turns away.  

 

“I thought we weren’t telling people about us?  And I definitely didn’t think we were ‘of course’ telling people about us?”  She turns back to face him but keeps a distance. “I thought we were trying to keep a low profile.”

 

“Oh, she doesn’t care about any of that.” He presses his nose into the crook of her neck.  “She’s my sister – I talk her about all the important parts of my life.”

 

“So, I guess I should just tell all my friends about us, then?”  She asks. He kisses her shoulder.

 

“If you want to.”  He brings up his face to hers and this time she lets him kiss her properly.

 

They don’t talk for a while after that.

 

* * *

  
  


Travis breaks up with his boyfriend.  Travis breaks up with his boyfriend over email, and Vic wants to both pat his shoulder and let him cry it out as much as she wants to strangle him.  Because overnight, Travis has gone from being a bit weird – and to be honest, all archaeologists are a little weird – to being obsessively weird. About cycling.  Which he has never done in his life.

 

“Riding a bike is not the same as cycling,” he insists that morning over breakfast when Ben tries to find some common ground.  “Cycling is intense.”

 

“You’ve never cycled.”  Vic replies, tossing a piece of toast at him.  He picks it off of his shoulder and scowls at her.

 

“I’ve cycled.  I cycled my freshman year of college.  I’m just getting back into it.”

 

“What made you quit cycling?” Jack asks.

 

“My parents let me buy my mom’s car.”  Travis admits. “And I didn’t have time to keep it up.  But I should have,” he adds defensively. “And I’m going to start doing it again.”

 

“Right.  When we’re in the middle of the desert with no bikes around.”  Vic drinks some coffee.

 

“There are probably bikes around.  I mean in town?” Andy chimes in. “I’m sure I’ve seen them in town.”

 

“But probably not cycling bikes.”  Maya joins in from Andy’s other side.  While Ryan hasn’t joined their group – yet – Maya has started hanging around more after the sandstorm.  

 

“Don’t encourage him,” Vic groans.  Dean pats her back. 

 

“No, Maya’s right.  There is a difference –” And he’s off, ranting about cycling again.

 

Vic tunes him out and finishes her breakfast.  So, Lucas told his sister about her and said she could tell her friends.  The truth is Vic doesn’t have very many friends – really Travis is her best friend and she’s friendly with her fellow anthropology grad students, but the current group of UW students at camp is really the only friend friends she has.  Jack already knows, and Dean, Ben and Andy are still too much of strangers to talk about this. 

 

But this means she can tell Travis.

 

Theoretically.

 

Travis’s late husband was a firefighter who died in the line of duty.  Vic never met Michael, meeting Travis only a month after his death. Travis, however, this past spring semester ended up with a boyfriend, Grant, who happened to be a chef.  Vic got to witness her best friend deal with falling in love. It was great, honestly, and she knows Travis would love to return the favor – he has hinted at it previously. For a while she was even seeing a Geography grad student, Mayhorn, and Travis was over the moon that she had found someone.  It didn’t last with Mayhorn – they just didn’t really connect. 

 

But maybe now that she has Lucas?  Was Lucas her, dare she say it, boyfriend?  She hasn’t had someone who she considered serious enough to tell other people about since…well,  undergrad. Eric. She had dated Eric her sophomore and junior years, until he graduated and decided to join the Navy.  The breakup had been amicable – they just wanted different things in life. But her senior year she was too concerned with applying to grad school, and she just really hadn’t had the time for guys, at least beyond the occasional one night stand, or perhaps a bit longer, like Mayhorn.

 

Can she tell Travis?

 

Should she tell Travis?

 

* * *

  
  


She waits until midmorning.  She slowly uses the dental pick to expose the temporal bone, hoping that the ear bones are still there. Travis works on exposing the ribs with a tooth brush. "So, I have this new hobby." 

 

He grunts. 

 

Okay, so he's clearly still upset of her making fun of his cycling. "I’m seeing someone, okay?” she blurts, which finally gets his attention. 

 

“Oh.”  

 

“And it's...complicated. And if I tell you more that means it means something and I’m not sure I’m ready for it to mean anything yet.” She keeps scraping dirt.  “And apparently it means something to him. So, I wanted to talk to you about whether I should talk to you about it.” 

 

"How complicated?" Travis asks monotonously, scrubbing probably harder than he should be. 

 

She winces as she sees a piece of rib flake off. "Like, not supposed to be together, complicated. Like lots of trouble, complicated." She spares a glance at him, but he's still brushing those ribs. 

 

"So, is it worth the complication?" he asks, head bowed down. 

 

"Yes! No. Maybe!" She puts down the pick and stands up to stretch her back. Travis sets down his toothbrush and looks up at her. "I don't know." She puts her hands on her hips, when a hired worker comes by with a wheelbarrow full of dirt and almost knocks her into the next pit.

 

"Careful there!" Before she can fall, her arm is grabbed by Lucas, who puts a hand on her lower back as he helps her stand up. "I don't want you getting hurt -- or my profile being messed up," he adds with a smile. 

 

She smiles back at him. 

 

Travis waits until he’s left and she's kneeling again, her head in the grave. "You're dating Ripley?” He hisses.

 

She uses a paint brush to brush away the loose soil.  “I don’t know,” she hisses back. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

 

But before they can talk more, his watch beeps.  “Ugh, time to see Sullivan.” He looks at her, “we’ll talk later, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

* * *

  
  


Later happens to be after dinner, after presentations.  They’re alone in the corner of the mess tent, the rest of the UW team – and Dean, Maya and Ryan – taking off as soon as the presentations finished.    Ripley is still seated at the front of the tent, making notes on a pad of paper, and a small group of students loiters on the other side of the tent.

 

Travis motions to her, and they stand up together and exit the tent.  “You know,” he says, “I was up most of last night, thinking about how I only really have this degree – and Michael.”

 

“And Michael.” Vic repeats.

 

“Yeah…I’m kind of still hung up on my dead husband.”  He sighs, as they make their way through camp, avoiding people.  “Grant and I broke up yesterday right after dinner, but I guess it was a long time coming.  Since this fieldwork, really. The long distance showed that we didn’t have enough to make it work.” He puts his hands in his pockets.  “And last night as I laid in my sleeping bag, I couldn’t help but think about Michael. And the fact that I needed something else.”

 

“So, you chose cycling.”

 

“It seemed the safest option.” He shrugs.  “Not like I can do anything about it here.”  

 

“Well,” she sighs, “I don’t know Michael, but from what you’ve told me, how could you be anything but hung up on him?”  She smiles at him. “He sounds amazing.”

 

“He was,”  Travis says softly.  

 

They continue a few more steps in silence, until Travis speaks again,  “so you and your hobby…”

 

She looks down and blushes, chuckles.

 

“You sure seem pretty into it.” He continues.

 

Vic looks up.  “I am definitely getting there.”

 

“As much as I’m into cycling?”

 

“Oh am I into my new hobby enough that I’d wear a spandex bodysuit and helmet in public for it?” She grins to herself.  “Yeah…I think I am.”

 

“Okay, can we talk about how hot your hobby is? Because I noticed it on the first day and you all just ignored me.”

 

“Oh my God,” she laughs.  “Yes, okay? You were right.  Definitely hot. So hot.” She sighs in contentment. “Finally someone who gets it!  Jack gives me none of this.”

 

“Wait, Jack knows? Before I did?”  Travis stops short. They’re just about to the edge of camp now.  “That’s not fair.”

 

“I went to him for some hypothetical advice,” she says, “and he put it together.”

 

“Ugh, still not cool.”  She punches him in the shoulder. 

 

* * *

  
  


That night, Lucas doesn’t come to her.  She doesn’t seem him until breakfast, and they don’t interact until she’s in the research tent, reading.  He comes over to the table and hands her a book. 

 

“This is for Gibson, actually, but I don’t see him here, and I have to run to town today for errands.”  

 

She takes it, their hands barely touching.  “Thanks, I’ll give it to him.” 

 

The tent is nearly empty, with one lone student reading in the corner with headphones in.  She leans closer to him. “I told my best friend about us.”

 

He smiles, “so Robert knows.”  She freezes. Who? Oh, Sullivan.

 

“Ha ha, very funny,” she grins at him.

 

“No, I know you know not to tell anyone here.” He smiles back and turns to leave.

 

She stares after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Fandommatchmaker19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandommatchmaker19/pseuds/fandommatchmaker19) for beta-ing!
> 
> Boden is an author I made up because I couldn't find a real author that fit my specifications. So please don't go looking for Boden as some pinnacle of Egyptology.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

  
  


She and Travis are never alone for the next few days.  She tells herself it’s no big deal – Travis and Ripley aren’t on good enough terms for Travis to bring up their relationship.  They barely interact as it is, like the way Ripley is with most grad students who don’t report directly to him (and even those usually go through Frankel first).  Vic is the exception, she knows, but it doesn’t make the waiting any easier.

 

She has to warn Travis.

 

At least that’s what she plans.

 

One day when she’s taking some time to herself on the dune, and a shadow falls across her.  She looks up at Lucas. “Hey,” she says, patting the sand next to her. “Care to join me?” Casual, like they’re nothing more than a student and professor.  The lines always blur a bit anyways when you’re on a dig, especially living in close quarters after so long – it’s been over a month and a half now, and they’re not quite half over with the field season.

 

“No, thank you.”  He keeps his voice curt and polite.  “I’d like a word, if I may.”

 

She startles, peers up at him quizzically.  “Of course.” There’s no one around them – the two of them  seem to be the only people who ever venture to the dune now.  “What is it?”

 

He looks around one more time furtively before crossing his arms.  “I had a conversation with Montgomery.” She peers at him confused, until it dawns on her.

 

Shit.

 

“Yeah, okay, so Travis knows.”  She brings her knees up. “I’m sorry.  But he’s my best friend and you said we could tell people –”  she cuts herself off and stands up. “He’s a big part of my life, like we,” she gestures between them, “are a big part of my life.”

 

“I didn’t mean people here,” he hisses.  “You know the situation we’re in,” he pauses, sighing.  “It’s just Montgomery you told.”

 

She looks down, before looking up into his eyes.  “Jack also knows.” She lowers her gaze again.

 

“Gibson too?” he exclaims, gesturing in the air.  “No one was supposed to know.”

 

“Why are you saying it like that?” She looks right at him.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like you’re ashamed of me.”

 

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he retorts, resting  his hands on his hips. 

 

“But that’s how it sounds!” She insists.  

 

“If that were true, I wouldn’t be taking this risk.” He leans a bit forward.

 

“You taking risks?” she asks incredulously. “We’re taking risks,”  she hisses back.

 

“Which is why you should know better.”  He runs a hand through his hair. “If this gets out –”

 

“If this gets out my career will be ruined too.  We’ll both be ruined.” She crosses her arms. 

 

“Which is why we’re supposed to be keeping this secret!”

 

“And I get that, I do, but they’re my friends.”

 

“They’re my  _ students _ .”

 

She freezes.  “And so am I,” she finishes.  “Is that all I am to you, your student?  Because if that’s the case, Professor, I think we’re done here.”

 

He stares at her, slowly closing and opening his fists.  “I need to go before I say something I regret.” He whirls on his heel, or just about as well as he can in sand, and strides off.

 

She continues  standing there, watching him leave. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Travis apologizes profusely, but the damage is done.

 

A week passes and another, and while she still sees Ripley nearly every day, they act indifferent to one another.  He sticks more to the admin tent, and she throws herself into excavating. There’s not too much of the summer left, and they still have a lot of graves to excavate.  Ben finally gets clearance from Sullivan to join her and Travis, and they show him how to properly excavate a burial. 

 

And then of course, one of the locals brings a cold into camp and students start falling like flies.  Ripley is gone – on a trip to Cairo – so Frankel sets up a makeshift infirmary. There are near daily trips into town to ferry students to see a doctor or get medicine and tissues.  

 

Vic gets the cold, because she always gets sick at least once a field season, and tries to power through.  

 

Sullivan isn’t having it though.

 

“Go to your tent, Hughes, and rest,”  he orders her away from their meeting when she walks in and sneezes before she can even greet him.  

 

Travis, who has been trying to get her to lay down all morning, follows her, sanitizing his hands with a generous dollop of hand sanitizer Sullivan had squirted in his hands.  “I told you so,” he sing-songs.

 

“Shut up,” she replies, but it sounds more like “Shud ut.”  She unzips her tent and crawls in. Maybe lying down wouldn’t be so bad…  Travis passes her a water bottle from his backpack and a pack of Kleenex. 

 

“It’s just a cold – you’ll feel better after you rest.”

 

“I hope so,”  she says, shivering.  “Thanks.” She pulls her spare blanket over herself and falls asleep almost instantly.

 

It’s two hours later when she wakes to Travis playing a doorbell sound on his phone in front of her tent.  She sits up blearily and opens the tent. “What?”

 

“Frankel is making the sick run to town, and you should go.”

 

“I don’t need to see a doctor,” she complains.  “I have a cold. I get them every field season. It’ll go away in a couple of days.”

 

“You don’t need a doctor, but you should get more Kleenex and go to the pharmacy for some kind of meds.  You know that since this epidemic started, pain relievers have pretty much disappeared from camp. Same with cough drops and basic decongestants.”  

 

She blinks.  He does have a point… She has a basic supply, because it’s always wise to bring a bottle of pain reliever and some decongestant with you when you go away for field work (along with anti-itch cream and cough drops and Benadryl and an antacid and okay, she may have basically brought a small pharmacy with her, but you never know).  Her Sudafed is almost gone, as it is. “Okay, fine.” She grabs her purse and rummages through her duffel for the light-weight jacket buried at the bottom. “I’m coming.”

 

“Great.”  Travis backs away from the opening of her tent and she climbs out.  The sun is hot – hotter than it felt before, and she ties her jacket around her waist.  “Let’s go.”

 

She joins two other students in the back of the field school jeep, and Frankel climbs in the front and starts to drive.  The drive lulls her back to sleep, and it isn’t long before they’ve reached town. Frankel hustles one girl to the doctor – Nadia, Vic thinks her name is, but she’s only has seen her in passing.  She might be from Toronto, and she might be in linguistics, but Vic wouldn’t be sure on a good day, and with her cold-addled brain certainly isn’t sure.

 

“Pharmacy?” Vic asks Lydia, another bioarchaeologist, but from Cambridge.  

 

“Yes, let’s,”  she agrees. 

 

They walk together in silence to the apothecary, and the man behind the counter only needs to see them enter before he’s pulling out a package of medication for each of them.   

 

They pay for their meds and receive instructions in halting English, before going back to the jeep to wait for Frankel and Nadia.  They end up in café next to where Frankel parked, sipping tea while they wait, content – or possibly too sick to do more than sit in silence.

 

They’ve finished their teas, have paid, and have been leaning on the side of the jeep for awhile now when Frankel and Nadia come out of the doctor’s office, a bag of medicine clutched in Nadia’s hand.  “You’re both here. Good.” Frankel unlocks the car and they climb in.

 

Vic falls asleep again – and is woken when there’s a bang and the jeep shudders to a halt.  Frankel curses in what Vic thinks is Arabic, before turning off the car. “The jeep’s broken down, and we’re about four miles from camp.”

 

“Is someone going to come get us?” Nadia asks sleepily.

 

“If I can get a hold of them.”  Frankel kicks the tire. “I’m no mechanic, so I don’t know what to do to get it working again, and my phone doesn’t have service anymore.  Do any of yours?”

 

Vic pulls out hers but is met with the “no service” symbol.  Lydia and Nadia shake their heads as well. “Sorry, Dr. Frankel.”

 

“Well, great.”  She leans against the driver’s door.  “Might as well settle in, girls – we’re stuck here until someone drives by.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

It hurts Nadia to talk, so she stays silent and tries to sleep, but Vic and Lydia whisper to each other as they spend time playing games on Lydia’s phone until she’s nearly out of power.  Vic wishes she had brought her battery charger, but she also wishes she brought a lot of other things, like the satellite phone from camp. Or a blanket – the desert does cool off in the evening, and though she’s usually fine with the temperature change, being sick makes it that much colder.  She begins to shiver.

 

“It shouldn’t be too long.”  Frankel says from the front seat.  She’s got the jeep’s manual on the front seat next to her along with a toolbox from the back.  “It’s been a couple of hours now, and we’ve been gone nearly long enough to miss dinner.”

 

“Don’t talk about food,” Lydia mumbles, “I’m getting really hungry.”

 

“As soon as they notice we’re missing dinner, they’ll come after us, and we’re not that far from camp.  Just too far that I’m not walking with three sick girls through the desert.”

 

Vic rummages through her purse and finds a granola bar.  It’s old – from the states – but still edible albeit very squished.  She holds it out to Lydia. “I’m not hungry; do you want it?”

 

“Oh, thanks!”  Lydia takes it and opens it carefully, fishing out a bit with her fingers.  “You’re a lifesaver, Vic.”

 

“I’m just glad it was in there,” Vic replies, waving her off.  “Enjoy.”

 

She pulls her jacket tighter to her and closes her eyes.  It isn’t very long – or at least it doesn’t seem that way – until she hears rumbling.

 

“Wake up, girls! I see people coming!”  Frankel calls out. Vic blinks sleep out of her eyes, and Lydia groans.  Nadia continues to sleep. 

 

Vic squints in the twilight and sees two jeeps pull up to them.  The one jeep has barely slowed to a stop when the passenger jumps out, and it’s Ripley.

 

“Are you all right?” He calls out.  

 

“We’re fine.  The jeep broke down and we don’t have any cell service.”  Frankel replies.

 

“Oh, thank God!  We thought you might have just needed a long time in town, but then it started to get dark and we knew you wouldn’t be out that long.”  Ripley opens the door next to Lydia and helps Lydia out first. Vic is next to climb out, being the one in the middle, and maybe she imagines it, but Ripley holds onto her hand for a second longer than he did Lydia’s.  He gives her hand a squeeze before releasing it.

 

The two jeeps are driven by two staff members. Ripley goes around to the other side and helps Nadia out of the jeep – clearly the break down did not do the woman any favors.  She looks like she’s about to faint, and he slowly helps her into the other jeep. Frankel climbs in the front seat of that jeep and Lydia climbs in the other side in the back.  Vic freezes – does she climb into the middle between them, or does she take Ripley’s jeep to the camp.

 

“Here, Hughes, ride with me and Sam.”  He makes the decision for her, and she nods, climbing into the empty backseat.

 

Ripley takes one last look at the broken-down jeep before climbing in the front seat and gesturing.  Sam is an administrative assistant who helps Frankel run the site and isn’t an archaeologist at all, just likes Egyptology enough to spend a good portion of the year helping run the site.  “Come on. Let’s head back to camp.”

 

Sam nods and turns around, leading the way.

 

“You all right there, Hughes?”  Ripley asks, above the sound of the wind.

 

“I’m fine.  I just have a pretty minor cold.  I didn’t even really need to go with today, but” she sneezes, “Travis wanted me to pick up some meds, just in case.”

 

“It’s best to be prepared.” Ripley replies.

 

“Sure led to an adventure,” she comments.  “Though I spent most of it asleep.”

 

“Sleep’s probably the best thing for your cold.”  His voice softens. “We have some dinner saved for you – and you should eat it,” he adds before she can open her mouth to protest, “and then you can go to bed.  And don’t worry about getting up in the morning for breakfast – we’ll save a plate for you then as well.”

 

“Thanks.” She smiles.

 

“We’re glad you’re all okay,” Sam speaks up.  “At least relatively speaking.”

 

Vic huffs a laugh.  “Yeah, we’re all biohazards but otherwise in one piece.”

 

Camp looms on the horizon and they fall into silence as they reach it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s three hours later, and Vic is tucked into her sleeping bag, reading a book with her lantern.  “Knock, knock,” someone whispers from outside her tent.

 

Frowning, she sets the book down and squiggles her way to the front of the tent, trying not to let any of the warmth escape her sleeping bag.  “Hello?” The rest of camp is silent: it’s late enough that everyone has gone to bed, especially after the hubbub of the broken-down jeep and missing people.  She unzips her tent slightly to see Ripley standing there with a flashlight in his hands and a packet of pills.

 

“Can I come in?”  She nods wordlessly and sort of falls back, before scooching even more backwards so there’s room.  Ripley waits until there’s some free space before quickly climbing in and zipping up the tent.

 

She sits with her knees up in the sleeping bag, her arms around them.  He kneels in front of her a bit awkwardly. She waits.

 

“I saw your light on and figured you were still awake.”

 

“Yeah, I was reading.”  She keeps her voice bland.

 

“Archaeology?”

 

“No, a mystery/thriller type thing.”  She motions to the book half covered by her blanket.  “Can’t really concentrate on archaeology now.” She yawns. 

 

“Yeah, makes sense.”  He holds out a blister pack of white pills.  She looks between him and them. “They’re zinc,” he says, “and vitamin C.  I always carry them with me on digs – they’re great in helping me avoid getting sick, and if I do, keeping the run of it short.”

 

“Oh, thank you.” She snakes out an arm and takes them.  “I just take one?”

 

“You just take one a day, with a bit of water or whatever you have to drink.  I’ve even swallowed them dry, but I don’t recommend it.” He smiles and watches her fumble for a water bottle with her other arm.  Finally, she finds it in the far corner of her tent, and she pops out a pill and swallows it with a sip of water.

 

“So, did you go to every sick person and offer them your magic pills?” She says, holding the package out.  He shakes his head. 

 

“Keep them.  Like I said, one a day for the length of your cold.  And one again a day if you start feeling like you’re going to get sick again or a lot of other people around you are sick.”  He pauses. “And no, I didn’t give them out to everyone else. Just you.”

 

“Oh.  Thanks.”  She isn’t sure what to make of it, of him.  Last they had spoken, he had stormed off, after basically telling her he considered her merely a student.  

 

“Just let me know if there’s anything else you need, okay?”  He turns around, ready to crawl out of her tent again.

 

“Actually, there is,” she finally says, heaving a sigh.  “We had our first fight, and we never finished it.”

 

“Well, we don’t have to finish it now, Vic.”  He turns back around to face her. 

 

“You’re wrong, because if an argument is all it takes to tear us apart –” She grabs for a tissue and wipes her nose.

 

“You’re sick, you should just be resting now,” he comes a bit closer to her, still on his hands and knees.  

 

“No!  I –” she has to wipe her nose again.  “We need to talk. We need to straighten a few things out.”

 

“Straighten what things out?”  He’s an arm’s length away from her now.  

 

“I am sick of the secrets, and I’m tired of hiding, but we have to.  Unless we don’t – I don’t know. But if we can’t even fight and make up then there’s no point in you being nice to me and bringing me magical pills or anything, because we won’t survive.  In which case you can take your magic pills and go.” She points to the front of her tent. 

 

He sits.  “I don’t want those pills back.  And no matter how sick or tired or whatever you feel, I don’t want to go.” He leans closer to her. “I don’t want to let you go.”  He backs up and starts to take off his boots. 

 

“What if you get sick,” she murmurs, leaning on her elbows. “I may be contagious.”

 

He crawls forwards and brings her head into his lap.  He leans down and gives her a kiss on the forehead, before stroking her hair. “Oh, you definitely are.”

 

She smiles and sniffs, closing her eyes.

 

She’s about to drift off to sleep when she hears him say, “I love you.”

 

“Damn it,” she mutters, “I love you too.”

 

Suddenly she’s awake, looking up into his eyes.  “Wait, did I just say—”

 

“Yes,” he says smiling down at her.  “I love you,” he repeats, smiling at her.

 

“Yeah, okay,” she replies, smiling back.  “It’s time to stop talking now.”

 

“But I’m wide awake.”

 

“Just go to sleep,” she says, snuggling back into his lap.  He puts a hand on her head, and she falls into a deep and restful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Fanddommatchmaker19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandommatchmaker19/pseuds/fandommatchmaker19) for beta-ing!


	6. Chapter 6

There’s less than a month left to field season, just under four weeks.   She watches as other people leave, having to return home before the school year starts again.  The students from Toronto are filing onto the bus with the belongings, and Vic waves good-bye to Nadia.  Lucas stands by the front of the bus, talking to the two professors, before they board the bus and the bus doors swing shut.  

 

“So, what are you going to do about your hobby when we have to leave?”  Travis peers over her shoulder at him.

 

“I don’t know,” she replies, turning away as the bus pulls out and starts down the road out of camp.  “We haven’t really talked about it yet.”

 

She told Travis that they were in love after she felt better, and while he had been a bit skeptical at first, ultimately he is happy for her.  

 

“Don’t you think that’s something you should discuss?  Especially since we only have a month before we go home?” he asks pointedly.

 

“It’s less than a month, Travis.”  She starts to walk towards the cemetery.  “And I know we need to talk about it, but…” she shrugs.  “We’re just trying to enjoy being together for the moment.”

 

“Well, you need to figure something out.”  He plops down next to their latest grave and she follows him, getting out her tools.

 

“And we will…just not right now.”  She uses her trowel to scrape a layer of dirt off the corner.  “What about you and Dylan?” she changes the subject, smirking when he looks away. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”   Travis shrugs, stubbornly keeping his head down.

 

Dylan is a new student who had arrived by himself a week ago.  While the field school generally takes students associated with certain schools who had been working on the project for years, every year there are a few singular students who came to the project without prior connections.  Dylan could only be there for a short period of time – his specialty is contact between Ancient Egypt and Greece, and he had spent the beginning of the summer working at another site before getting sent to Reyahh by his advisor.  

 

“Come on, I saw you kissing behind the mess tent yesterday evening.”

 

“I thought I saw someone!”  Travis snaps his gaze back to her in alarm.  

 

“Well, if you don’t want it all over camp – and by the way, it might be already too late for that – I suggest you don’t make out behind the mess tent.” Vic says with an air of superiority.

 

“Instead we should search out the dunes around camp?”  he teases.

 

“We have not done anything inappropriate at the dunes, thank you very much!”  She shudders. “Can you imagine the sand getting everywhere? Eww.”

 

Travis pauses his brushing for a moment.  “Yeah, all right. Eww.”

 

They clean the layer in peace.  As much as she hates to admit it, she and Lucas do need to have a conversation relatively soon about what is going to happen.  She only has his professional email and doesn’t even have his cell phone number, just the number for the satellite phone. There’s no need at camp, but when they get back to the real world…

 

Well.

 

* * *

  
  
  


The day seems hotter than others, and Vic is glad when the sun goes down and it cools off.  Another week has passed, and another group goes home. She and Travis – and Ben – are the only three working on the cemetery now, but they’re almost done.  The three of them each take a grave and work on it by themselves, everyone confident enough in their ability to do it alone.

 

She sits in the mess tent alone after presentations and finishes her juice.  Travis has gone to hang out with Dylan, and Andy and Ryan are hanging out as well.  Jack is in the lab tent while the lights are still on, hurriedly taking notes. Ben and Dean are…somewhere, probably back in their tents.  It’s pretty late after all.

 

“I didn’t expect to find you here,”  Ripley enters the tent, a flashlight in his hands.

 

“Come to turn off the lights?”  She stands from her bench. 

 

“Doing a last check of camp, yeah.”  He spies her empty cup. “Keeping hydrated?”

 

“Trying to.  Today sure was a scorcher.”  She steps up to him. “What about you?  Did you keep hydrated?”

 

“Yes,” he replies, eyes locked on hers.  “And I thought cooling thoughts.”

 

“Like what?” she cocks her head.

 

“You and me, in Colorado or Vancouver in the snow.” He glances furtively around.

 

“Wait, you want me in a snowsuit?”  She makes a face. “I was thinking more you and I on a beach…and you’re shirtless.”

 

“Oh am I?”  He grins. “I think you’d be cute in a snowsuit.”

 

“Nope,” she shakes her. “You're shirtless. All the time.  And I’m in a bikini.” And with that the lights go out.

 

Instantly his mouth is on hers and she puts her arms around his neck, pressing into him.  They kiss deeply, before coming up for air – and then their lips meet again. His hands are around her waist and on her back, and she glides hers through his hair.  

 

For a moment – just for a moment – she wonders how far they can go here in the deserted mess tent in the dark, when the lights flicker on again.

 

They jump away from each other.  “I think the heat fried the circuits,” he mutters breathlessly.

 

“Yeah…”  She takes a deep breath, smooths her hair back.  “I think I’m going to go to bed.” She can feel his gaze on her as she leaves.  She doesn’t know if he’ll join her tonight or not – he’s been staying up working using a lantern in his office and his laptop and getting up early before breakfast to work some more.  She’s heard through the camp grapevine that he’s got a manuscript deadline coming up.

 

It…kind of hurts, in a way, that she has to learn certain things from the camp grapevine instead of from him himself, but she quickly squashes the feeling down.  They have a limited amount of time together before they have to figure out what to do, and he’s so intoxicating to be around. It’s no wonder that they spend most of their time together in her tent in the dark, making love to each other.

 

He doesn’t join her that night, nor the next three.

 

The fifth night he crawls into her tent and his mouth is hot and heavy on hers.  For a fleeting second, she thinks about breaking off the kiss, before she surrenders to his ministrations and loses herself to pleasure, surrounded by the heady feel of him.

 

* * *

  
  


“We need to talk,”  she stops him in the research tent.  They’re alone even though it’s the middle of the day.  The remaining students are in the lab tent or excavating before they have to return home; research can be done anywhere, but you can’t excavate back home.  She has Boden in front of her, but she’s really just been waiting for him to come in and return books.

 

“About what, Hughes?”  He places his stack down on the table beside her.  “How is Boden going?”

 

“Boden is going well; I can see why he’s so renown,”  she closes the book.

 

“He was one of my teachers,” he replies, leaning towards her.  From a distance, there’s nothing strange about the two of them talking.  Sure, Ripley doesn’t hang out with the grad students – especially now when he’s so busy – but he was known to at least say hello.  “A great man, I miss him.”

 

“You’re lucky to have studied under him,”  she stops, forces herself back on track. “But I didn’t want to speak to you about Boden.”

 

“Then what do you want to talk about?”  

 

“I want to talk about this,” she motions between them, “us.”

 

He takes a step back.  “Victoria,” his voice is low, “now is not a good time…”

 

“I know that,” she says, leaning forward.  “But when is? At night we have other things on our minds than talking, and during the day is impractical as well.”

 

“Tonight.”  He sighs. “Tonight, after lights out, I’ll come to your tent.  To talk,” he emphasizes.

 

“Till tonight, then.” He nods sharply and leaves his stack of books next to her.  She sighs and stands up, getting ready to sort them onto their correct shelves. 

 

Two weeks until they go back, and so much is still up in the air.

 

* * *

 

“Hey.”   She hears him start to unzip her tent, and she puts her Kindle down.  The novel she is reading is some action adventure novel that tries to make archaeologists out to be ass-kicking treasure-hunting Navy SEALs who fight curses on a regular basis, and she’s this close to giving it up and deleting it off her Kindle.  She welcomes the distraction – especially who the distraction is.

 

“Hey.”  She unzips her sleeping bag and spreads it out. 

 

“So, you wanted to talk.”  He crouches in her tent. 

 

“Yeah, well,” she runs a hand through her curls.  “I love you,” she blurts out. “But field season is almost over, and you’re going back to California and I’m going back to Washington, and the idea of never seeing you again just pains me and –” the words spill out, but he interrupts her gently. 

 

“Wait,” he holds up a hand. “What do you mean, never see me again?”

 

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about.”  She sits cross-legged in front of her pillow.  “When will we see each other again? We’re not even on the same flight back – you and your team and students leave a couple of days after we do.  And, we live in different states.”

 

“Yeah, but…” he trails off, sighing.

 

“Yeah.”  She brings up her knees and hugs them.  “Both of our semesters start in a few weeks.  I have to get back to Dr. Conlin, who is my actual advisor, though I definitely want Sullivan to be my co-chair.  And you – you have students of your own, and a book to publish, and probably a lot more than that.”

 

“I do,”  he groans.  “Meetings and academic senate and so much more.”  He puts his face into his hands. “I love field season – it’s always been my favorite bit of archaeology.”

 

“Then why didn’t you go into CRM?”  Cultural resource management is the type of archaeology that deals with excavating on a regular basis.  You went in and surveyed a site, possibly excavated it, and prepared a report for whoever hired you, be it a construction company, a utility company or the government.  “You’d always be in the field, then.”

 

“I thought of it briefly,” he says, “but my second wife was so against it, and –”

 

“Your second wife?”  Vic cuts in, stunned.  “You’ve been married how many times?”

 

“Just the two,”  he sighs. “Mandy and I got married in college, actually.  We were engaged right out of high school and married the summer after our freshman year.  We lasted until we graduated, and she got into grad school in New Mexico and I ended up at Brown under Russel and then under Boden.  We fought – we really shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place; we were too young, and I was still actively grieving my parents – but our divorce ended up being pretty amicable and we still talk on occasion.”  He leans back on his hands, looking up at the top of her tent. “Now Eva…Eva is a different story.”

 

Vic shuffles closer to him.  “Tell me about her.”

 

“By the time Eva and I divorced, I don’t think she even liked me,”  he sighs. “We met at a grad student mixer my second year. She was in American Studies; I was in Egyptology.  She didn’t like the excavating side of archaeology, called it too dirty. Which,” he shrugs, “is true – archaeology isn’t for everyone.  But she hated that I got my hands dirty; she wanted me to be an armchair archaeologist.”

 

“Already in grad school she wanted you to be an armchair archaeologist? Wow.”

 

“Yeah.” He breathes in through his teeth.  “I was in my third year, had just passed my quals and was getting a bit burnt out of all the research, so I thought maybe dropping out with my MA or at least taking a break and getting a CRM job would be better, and Eva had a fit.  She couldn’t stand the idea of CRM.” He looks at Vic and smiles, “And she has a lot to answer for, but it’s probably a good thing she threw that fit, because otherwise I might not be here now.”

 

“So why did you end up marrying her?  And how did it end?” Vic leans her head against his shoulder.

 

“I married her because I thought I was in love with her.”  He shakes his head. “It seems ridiculous in hindsight, but I thought her trying to mold me into what she wanted was her being in love with me, and I tried to do what she wanted.  But when we both graduated and I got the post-doc position at CULA, she didn’t get any job offers in the area. Unlike Mandy and I, we decided to try living apart for a year while we both completed post-docs, hers in Berlin, and then reassess.  And it became crystal clear during that year apart that we really were not made for each other.”

 

“So, it ended well, then?”  He puts his arm around Vic’s shoulder and cards his hands through her curls.    

 

“Oh, anything but.  We were still married, that year apart, and for all intents and purposes, planning on getting back together as soon as it ended and continuing our married life.  No,” he pauses, “it was that she started sleeping with another post-doc while in Berlin and got pregnant.”

 

“Oh no!”  Vic looks up into his eyes.  “That’s awful.” She stifles a yawn.  

 

“I had no idea until I made a surprise visit to her – cost me a bundle, of course, but I wanted to do something special for our anniversary – and found her with him,”  he sighs. “It was a long time ago, and last I heard she’s married to the guy and still somewhere in Europe. And I don’t wish her ill or anything. But yeah, those are my two ex-wives, Mandy and Eva.”

 

She wants to fight to stay awake, but feels herself nodding off.  “We still need to talk, Lucas.”

 

He lays her down.  “I know, Victoria, but it’s late, and you’re falling asleep.”

 

“I can stay up for this.” She props herself up on her elbows, but he just chuckles.  

 

“No, no, go to sleep.  I promise we’ll talk soon.”  He leans down and kisses her softly on the lips, before backing away.  “Good night, I love you.”

 

“Love you too,” she mumbles, sleep already slurring her words. “Night.”

 

* * *

 

She wakes up in the morning well-rested but annoyed at herself for falling asleep when they needed to have an important talk.  A part of her wants to take her laptop to the research tent and try to use camp internet to research Lucas’s two ex-wives, but she has no idea what names they’d be under, or even what field Mandy is in.  Also, she realizes that they’re in the past. Lucas’s past. There’s no hurry or reason, really, to go digging into them now.

 

She’s his present.

 

Maybe even his future.

 

She hugs her knees to herself.  God, she hopes she’s his future.

 

She crawls out of her tent and waves to Marian, one of the few students left.  She finishes her morning routine and goes to the mess tent for breakfast. It’s more subdued with so many people gone.  Ripley is nursing a cup of coffee at the front table while highlighting a stack of papers. He looks up and smiles.

 

She ducks her head and goes to grab a coffee and a pastry.

 

“Sleep well last night?”  Dean is the only one at the table so far. 

 

“Yeah,” she says into her coffee.  “You?”

 

“Like a baby.”  He picks off a corner of his pastry.  “I’m heading out in a week, you know.”

 

“No, I didn’t know.”  She looks up. “Just you, or NYU?”

 

“NYU.  Only CULA and UW are staying until pretty much the end,” he says. 

 

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize that.”  She takes a sip of her coffee, breathing in the aroma.  “Do you have a business card? I don’t think I ever got one from you.”

 

“At my tent,” he says.  “You?”

 

“Same.”  She dunks a corner of her pastry into her coffee.  “Man, I’ve done field seasons before, but this is the first time it really feels sad to go home.”

 

“Mmhmm.”  He drinks his own coffee.  “This place is pretty magical.”

 

She doesn’t get a chance to talk with Lucas.

 

Travis and the others soon storm the table where she and Miller have been sitting in pleasurable silence.  Lucas gets up once the noise level in the mess tent grows, moving to another location – probably his office.  He brings a tumbler of coffee with him – as far as she knows, the only person allowed to remove non-water beverages or food from the tent.

 

“It is a great day!” Travis exclaims.  Dylan nods next to him, likely sensing Travis’s sentiments even though he can’t hear his actual words. 

 

“Did you two sleep together?” Jack asks, and signs.

 

“EW.”  The rest of the table – even Dylan – turn to look at Vic. 

 

“I’m sorry, but that’s not what I want to hear at my breakfast table.  I’m out.” She swings her backpack on her back and grabs her plate and mug.  “See you around.”

 

“See you,” the rest of the table choruses. 

 

Vic rolls her eyes and trots to the bin where she deposits her dishes, before once again facing the air. 

 

She goes to the cemetery and kneels down in front of a grave – this one of a child.  She’s worked with child remains before – in fact, her first experience was looking at infant remains – and she’s used to dealing with human remains in general.  But there’s always a certain solemnity that arises when she’s faced with a child in situ. She’s in archaeology – it’s her  _ job _ to excavate this grave – but part of her wants to close it back up and let the child rest in peace, wherever it may be.

 

“Everything okay?”  She looks up at Lucas, standing over her.

 

“Yeah, just thinking.”  She unzips her backpack and takes out her dental picks and brushes.  “I have to finish this grave and get it all cataloged today.”

 

“You can do it,” he states.  “I know you can.”

 

“Thanks,” she smiles, then pauses before adding,  “do you want something?”

 

“No…I’m just wandering around camp.  Got annoyed with my grading,” he says, a small smile on his face, “so I felt I could use the air.”

 

“I feel you.”  Vic has only had to grade a class’ worth of papers, but those thirty-three essays were enough.  Too bad she has a long career of grading in front of her. 

 

“We’ll talk later, I promise.”  His smile grows. “Have fun.”

 

“You too.”

 

* * *

 

 

He finds her again on the dune.  “Lab getting you down?”

 

“My eyes were blurring,”  she stretches out her legs in the sand.  “I needed to get away, look at something else other than pathologies on cranial bones.”

 

“I’ll miss this view,” he says, and she just knows he’s not talking about the horizon but her on the dune.

 

“I’ll miss you,” she says, turning to look up at him.   “But yeah, I’ll miss the view, too.”

 

“We still have two weeks left,” he says, carefully sitting himself down beside her – but far enough away that it doesn’t seem like  anything inappropriate. 

 

“You may have two weeks; I have less than that now.”  She leans forwards and touches her toes. She can feel his gaze on the lines of her body.  “I got my fall classes straightened out. My housing. Sullivan and Dr. Conlin have talked and are going to co-chair my committee.” She sits back up.  “I’m going back to UW in twelve days, Luke” she says gently.

 

“I know.”  He licks his lips.  “And I can’t ask you not to go.  CULA is great, but we don’t have a palopathologist on staff, at least not at the moment, nor any bioarchaeologist.  It would hurt your career to move there.”

 

“If I even got in.” She knows how hard it is to get into grad school, and it’s even harder to transfer once you’re in.  She would need a very compelling reason to go to CULA, and being in love is not one. She could be the best budding archaeologist in the world, but if they don’t have someone who can advisor her in her field, there’s no way they would take her.

 

“I could retire,” he tosses out, but she laughs.

 

“Are you trying to be funny?  You’re tenured and young and have absolutely no reason to give up your career,”  she shakes her head. “That path just leads to resentment and trouble down the line – if you could even stand it now.”

 

“I’m forty-three, but thank you for calling me young.”

 

“You’re young for being tenured at a world-class archaeology institute and a leading site director in your field,”  she flicks some sand on him. 

 

“Hey!” he flicks some back at her.  “So, I’m stuck in Los Angeles, and you’re stuck in Seattle.”

 

“We do long distance?”  she offers, but then freezes.  The inability to do long distance is what cost him both of his marriages. 

 

“Do we have a choice?” He stretches out his legs.  “It’s either that or end things – and I don’t want to end things.”

 

“This sucks,” she mutters, looking into her lap. “But no, we don’t have a choice.” She looks up at him.  “I love you – I don’t want to end things.”

 

“So long distance it is.  And there are vacations – we could always go to a ski chalet –”

 

“There you go with the snow suit again,” she shakes her head lightly.  “Say it with me:  _ Swimwear _ .”

 

“And we can video call and email and talk on the phone – stuff was harder when I was looking at long distance with Mandy or Eva.”

 

“Right,” she nods. “Modern technology is a thing.”

 

“And conferences – you should present your research at the International Congress of Egyptologists,”  he’s clearly starting to get excited. “And of course at the SAA and AAA meetings. There’s a paleopathology conference too, right?”

 

“The International Paleopathology Association has an annual conference, yeah.  I presented a posted my junior year.” She leans back, arching her back. “So, we’ll have to try to make conferences to see each other.”

 

“And Seattle and Los Angeles aren’t  _ that _ far apart – I might be able to wrangle some weekends.”  He sighs, “we can do this, Victoria.”

 

“Yeah,”  she sits up straight again.  “We can.”

 

They’ll have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Fandommatchmaker19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandommatchmaker19/pseuds/fandommatchmaker19) for the beta.

**Author's Note:**

> UW does not have an Egyptology department. NYU doesn't just issue MA degrees in archaeology, and CULA doesn't exist (but UCLA does and they do iirc have an Egyptologist at the Cotsen Institute). [Ancient Egypt: An Introduction](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7022401-ancient-egypt?from_search=true) does exist. 
> 
> I have made up the Reyahh Oasis, but am basing it on the [Dakhla Oasis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dakhla_Oasis). The 5 skeletons with cancer is published [here](https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1879981717301419) and the article from Live Science on them you can read [here](https://www.livescience.com/62908-ancient-egypt-cancer.html).
> 
> All comments and kudos are appreciated. Thanks for reading!


End file.
